Page 28 of Dream On

“Ugh.” My sister shakes water out of her sunny floral dress as it tries with great effort to glue itself back to her wiry frame. “Guess I deserved that.”

“You deserve much worse. You’re fired.”

“Fired from what? Being your sister?”

“Yes. Now I’m an only child, and—” I freeze. She freezes too, and the freeze-frame feels colder than the icy water soaking into my skin.

Her lips flicker with a rueful smile as she quickly comes to my rescue. “It’sextra hot today, so I figured you needed a cooldown. You should be thanking me for my service.”

“I’ll thank you in the form of strategically placed glares and passive-aggressive comments…afterI lace your dinner with pickle juice.”

She gags. “You’re in charge of dinner tonight, aren’t you?”

My slow-stretching grin is akin to the Grinch devising his nefarious plan to steal Christmas.

Joplin goes to apologize, surely, but she’s interrupted when her gaze shifts across the field to the walnut tree. “What’s that over there?”

Frowning, I follow her stare and squint.

Oh…crap.

Lex left his backpack here, and I know his script is inside. He’d planned on practicing this at home, and it’s a three-day weekend due to a staff in-service day on Monday.

Ever since our bonding moment out on my roof, Lex has been coming over regularly to rehearse lines together. I’m not sure if I’d call us friends—more like two people working on a big project outside school—but I can’t lie and say I don’t look forward to his visits. He’s a different person outside the school hallways, where he hardly even looks at me. I try not to take it personally. Lex keeps to himself at school, rejecting the come-hither glances and batting lashes from all the girls. I don’t know if he’s made a single friend.

But he smiled at me once.

Just once, as we crossed paths in the cafeteria, our trays filled with potato salad and fruit juice and deli sandwiches, and it was so fleeting yet so…rare. And when someone is on the receiving end of a rare thing, it feels special. Like winning the Mega Millions jackpot.

Lex confided in me that this musical is an outlet for him. It keeps his mind busy, distracted from all the things he refuses to share with me.

So I know he needs this script.

My shoulders slacken with a sigh as I pivot back to my sister. “Do you mind taking over dinner tonight? Youdoowe me big time.”

“Okay, but why?” She continues to wring water out of her dress as droplets sprinkle across her sandals. “Do you have plans?”

“I should bring Lex his backpack.”

“Text him to come pick it up,” she says. “I’m sure he doesn’t need an excuse to drive that gaudy blue monstrosity around town.”

I would, but since he has yet to text me, I don’t have his number. “I don’t mind. I need to dry off anyway.” I send her one of many glares. “So will you? I was making Hawaiian chicken. Pineapple is already diced in the fridge.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Sure. I suppose.”

“Thanks. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be home in an hour.”

As I skip toward the tree, Joplin calls out to me, “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something!” I shout back.

Once the backpack straps are attached to my shoulders, I wheel my bicycle out of the shed. Last week, Misty texted me a screenshot of Lex’s giant house, taken from one of the real estate websites. All the girls know his address now, thanks to their curious web sleuthing. It wasn’t long before everyone was gossiping about the sprawling multimillion-dollar estate Lexington Hall lives in, right along the lakefront.

I hop on my bike and take a moment to pull up Misty’s text, my eyes skimming over the address, then type it into my GPS and choose the fifteen-minute bike route. Hopefully that’ll give me enough time to dry off so I don’t show up looking like a drowned rat.

Twenty minutes later, after getting stuck at a slew of busy intersections, I’m riding up his cobblestone driveway lined with pillars and paver lights. Nerves weave their way through me the moment I’m in front of his house, my heartbeats still in a tizzy from the long ride. I plant both feet on the ground and look up.

And up and up and up.